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On the Point of Interrogation - Part II
Thayndor Zahir nods back to Tahvron -- the Zahir sits in a far corner of the bar -- and leans back, moving to rifle through his backpack until he comes up with some parchment, a quill and an inkwell. He appears to keep one eye on Tahvron and Meian as he writes. The bartender glances to Meian, and then to Tahvron, one eyebrow rising slightly even as he inclines his head and leans forward, elbows on the bar. "Aye, then... I were nae involved." Tahvron shakes his head. "Of course not. I merely request that you give up some of the particulars. Be assured, there is no accusation placed against you, Master. There are rumors flying--doubtless you've heard them--of a mage that was hanged here a week or two ago. It having happened here in this town--presumably your place of residence--I'm certain you have heard and perhaps even experienced more than is... widely known, shall we say. You may know, perhaps, which tree? Where? Or have a suspicion of who may be behind such criminal acts? Or maybe you know something of the mage himself?" "Anything at all," Meian adds, all hopeful smiles and pleasant warmth... as much as her naturally wintry coloration allows. "You needn't fear the source of the information getting bandied about, aye?" The lean mage shifts in her seat- and the motion, carefully planned, causes a few purses hung about her waist to jingle with subtle volume. The tavern door opens to admit Wildfire, the blonde wildlander glancing around the hall absently. She notes Thayndor's presence in the corner with a longer-than-brief look in his direction, before making for the bar. She settles into a spot a short ways from Tahvron and Meian, who are speaking with the bartender. Thayndor Zahir looks away after making brief eye contact with Wildfire. He grins when no one else can see him. Then, as a waitress approaches his corner table, he gestures for her to come over. The door to the tavern swings open once more, and in steps Sandrim, the young mage with the hood of his cloak back. And with a few bruises that are the tell-tale signs of practice with someone. Brutal practice, from the looks of it. "Zylar!" he calls to the barkeep in a rather familiar tone. "Do you have something cold for an old friend? The old man's being a pain in the ass again." "Well, M'lord," the barkeeper starts to say to his questioners. "Messus, I don't really know the exact. Don't really take to looking at such sights." He looks over to Sandrim as the mage calls, rolls his eyes, and starts tapping a mug of ale. "Sandrim, hello." Meian flashes the other mage a pleasant smile, her usual shyness shed like snakeskin. Before long her gaze inexorably returns to the bartender, who gets act two of the cordial expression. "Well, that's alright. Thank you nonetheless, mmm? And I'll have a mug of that ale as well, if you don't mind.." Tahvron looks behind him as Sandrim appears at the door, pulling Zylar's attention away from the interrogation, and blows out a sigh. "Your attention a moment longer, Master, if you can spare it," he breaks in as the man turns to tap the ale. "Try to recall for me the name of the mage, perhaps, or those of the ones who found him? Maybe you know someone else who may know more, and could be inclined to say." "And a mug of water this way, when you have the time," Wildfire says to the bartender simply. She blinks and looks over in the direction of a nearby table, woman and children seated there, before facing the bar again with a small shake of her head. Thayndor Zahir appears to be watching only body language from his place at the far corner of the room, but it seems to inform him enough to cause him to shake his head and return to his writing. He sits at a corner table, and has just dismissed a waitress who is now fetching his order. Sandrim is walking up to the bar, rubbing at bruises as he approaches where Meian and Tahvron are speaking with the bartender. He frowns as he nears, looking to Tahvron. "Interrogating him about the hanged mage, huh?" he asks. "I've already talked to Zylar about it. He really doesn't know anything about it - always has kept to himself." He gives Meian a nod as he takes a seat on a barstool. Zylar gives the young man a relieved look - and a mug of ale. "It's as he says, my Lord," the bartender says. "And you, young man, should be more polite about your father you know. He's a good man." Tahvron turns aside to Sandrim, lifting one eyebrow to take him in. The briefest flicker of puzzled recognition, and he sighs, and nods. "Very well, then," he asides to Meian. "So much for that idea." "Thanks for your help all the same, m'lord," Meian tells Tahvron with a ruefully accepting smile. "There are... -always- dead ends." The surety and poise melt away subtly from her frame, and the ladymage seems to diminish in just a couple of eyeblinks to her regular self once more. "I'll just... there are other places to check." Glancing over to the three nearby at the bar, Wildfire lets out a sigh as a waitress handles her order instead of the barkeep. She offers a nod and some coins, taking her water and swigging at it absently as her attention stays mildly with the small group. Thayndor Zahir exhales, putting away his materials and rising. "I think it's a lost cause," he tells the group at the bar, approaching. The waitress intercepts him, and he has a glass of wine in his hand as he sits next to Tahvron. "Interrogations, that is. Inestigations." The Marked Mage settles his backpack and bow down next to him at the bar again. "This was the work of copycats. A group of peasant thugs instigated either through inspiration, exhortation or coin to kill an innocent man. If another such attack happens here, it will doubtless be just as random." Sandrim raises an eyebrow at Thayndor. "You do not know that," he tells the Zahir. "There's been little enough said by anyone, little enough known, and I'd hardly call this random." He takes a swallow of his ale before turning to Meian. "I'll go with you to look, later," he offers. "You're going to be in town for some time now?" Tahvron gives Meian a curious look, noting the sudden changes in appearance, and nods. "There will indeed," he agrees. "I'd be curious to see if you find anything out." Meian has partially disconnected. "What a very interesting opinion, Lord Thayndor." Were Meian to seek professional experience as a mannequin, those words could not be a better audition piece. They're completely bland, as devoid of tone as her face is devoid of expression. "Thank you for your input." Her gaze shifts to Sandrim, and the little mage notes with a thawing smile, "Maybe. I think at least a few days longer. And I'll tell you anything I come across, m'lord, in payback for your help and kindness." The last words are added for Tahvron with decided warmth, quite a contrast. Quirking a brow as Thayndor joins the others' conversation, the wildlander hides a smirk by taking a long pull from her beverage. Wildfire seems more inclined to just sit there and drink her water than pose an opinion or any other indication that she's listening in. Not that she's really trying to hide her passive interest in the topic. Larken steps through the door of the tavern, adjusting his pack on his shoulder. He pauses for a moment, casting a gold-colored glance about the establishment. "I don't mean to say you won't be able to find the people who killed him," Thayndor continues, a touch archly. "But we already know who they are: Peasants. It is what they use -- men and women with no future." He glances sidelong at the bartender. "Men and women with everything to gain and nothing to lose. What I mean to say is, the trail will like as not lead to a road that is already being traveled." He inspects the bottom of his wine glass. "The man was one of us. I want justice for his killers as much as either of you," he adds, looking between Sandrim and Meian. "But the -real- killers -- not the ones who held the noose -- you won't catch them just by catching the thugs they use to meet their ends." Sandrim nods to Meian, ignoring Thayndor quite pointedly. "Alright," he says. "I'll be around myself... Can find me around Whitehorn Smithy. You'll have a room here?" Tahvron smiles faintly at Meian. "Thank you, Mistress, though I remain unsure of exactly what I've done besides inquire as to the whereabouts of your cloak, and show an interest in the ends of your investigation." "Y-you were willing to use your title to help me," Meian tells Tahvron, dimpling pleasantly. "That counts for a lot. Oh, yes, Sandrim, I'll have one soon." Ice-pale eyes slant over to Thayndor once the other conversation has been answered, and the ladymage drones vacantly, "I'll keep that in mind, Lord Thayndor." "Then Meian, in her infinite wisdom, has heard all I intend to say." Thayndor shifts in his seat, facing the bar and not the others, and takes another sip of his wine. "You know," Wildfire chimes in finally, glancing between Meian and Sandrim with her mouth hidden behind her mug, "While I see no value in noble titles, he did seem to just be trying to help. Perhaps a little less coldness and a little more cooperation would help your goals along a bit?" Sandrim looks up to the ceiling a moment. "No matter who's manipulating, the ones who hold the noose are just as much the real killers," he drawls. "And really, how long have you been working for him, Wildfire?" Thayndor Zahir snorts. "No, no," he says, gesturing. "Let it be. Let it be. Sandrim is right -- those who did the deed must be brought to task as well. My only intent was to point out that there's so damned /many/ of them, that catching them won't stop others from doing exactly the same thing again." He sets his wine down. "The only irony is that I was called here -- asked to come here -- to help find them. And their masters." The Zahir considers a moment before exhaling. "I joined the Adventurer's Guild. The Guild asked its members to come here and help. I was not told to force myself upon others already at work on the task." "Miss," Meian tells Wildfire gently, "believe me I know -exactly- what I'm d-doing. I'll cooperate with anyone and e-everyone as far as cooperation will actually -help- my goals. But I am n-not required to work with a-anyone who will prove more an o-obstacle than o-otherwise to getting anything useful done." SHe groans softly at Thayndor's words, looking up at the ceiling. "...Lucius didn't tell me -you- w-were in this G-guild." Sandrim reacehs over to pat Meian's shoulder before standing. "Good luck," he says. "I'm headed back to dad's place - may your time in this Guild not be the time worse than being consumed by Shadow that it seems to be becoming." And with that, he moves to the door. Wildfire blinks at Sandrim as he departs, and with a very straight face remarks to no one in particular, "I don't believe I've said anything worth snapping over." She nods over Meian's way, then, "Fair enough. So is he always that rude, or only when people say anything contrary to him?" And then she looks between Meian and Thayndor, before adding to the latter, "Oh, they just seem to love you." Thayndor Zahir laughs softly. "We have a history," he says, and exhales. "Meian, have you forgotten all those lessons in humility you tried to teach me?" The Zahir folds his hands together. "I am as convinced that they were well-intentioned lessons as you are convinced that I am acting in good faith right now. But they are important lessons. And I hope that you will not repeat the mistake I made -- believing that you are the only one good enough or smart enough to accomplish a task. Or that the power you have means that others are somehow below you by default." He shifts again and leans forward. "I am here to see that our task is accomplished. But I do not value it so highly that I need to catch myself in the same noose with which you seem intent to hang yourself. So if you wish to shoulder me out of what you intend to do," he smiles. "I will take it as a blessing." "Do you know h-how I know you haven't changed, Lord Thayndor?" Meian tells the Zahir softly, with a shake of her head. "Y-you did not come here and ask me what I knew a-about the situation, or w-what I thought. I-instead, you proceeded to g-give me your opinion and plan like it w-were the definite t-truth, despite the f-fact it doesn't f-fit with information I a-already have. You are the s-same proud man as you w-were before, and to w-work with you means only to lose any c-chance at independent action." The Wildlander leans against the bar, facing Meian and Thayndor with an amused gleam dancing in her eyes. Isa sips at her water and just listens at this point, staying out of their conversation but clearly not about to allow it privacy. "I gave you my conjecture," Thayndor replies, amused. "I didn't give you an ultimatum. I know a little; you know something different Maybe more. If we put the pieces together, then chances are we'll both know more than we did when we started, and at worst, you're out a few breaths of air." He finishes his glass of wine. "You're vilifying me for taking a guess. So is this about me thinking I'm right, or about you being convinced you're right about me?" "A guess? That was a very certain... guess. This is about you coming in, telling me my investigations are pointless and this is a lost cause and that we will learn nothing," Meian says simply. "You have every right to believe that, and since you do, I don't see why I should disabuse you of your notions." The girl leans back in her stool, crossing slim legs, regarding Thayndor with eyes as opaquely blue-white as glaciers. "I suspect we know the same thing, but the way you have interpreted it is so different from how I have that cooperation would be actively -harmful-." Wildfire is just sitting there, smirking and watching the pair. "A man is dead and you're doing the right thing by trying to catch his killers," Thayndor replies. "I'd rather focus on the people that put them there, because I think bringing the actual killers to justice -- while noble -- won't stop more murders." He holds his hands out, palms up. "Our ends are not mutually exclusive. And you'll find that I'm more open to rational thought than you seem to believe. Please, disabuse away; I don't need to hold a monopoly on correct thinking." "Finding the actual killers, if they are whom I suspect they are, will allow us to tie this incident to the old Church- already known to have been working with a certain band of killers- and provide another damning mark on their record when someone has to pay for the recent happenings. The more complete the web of events appears to be, the easiest it is to identify and condemn the spider at its center," Meian tells Thayndor, leaning forward to take the mug of ale the bartender had delivered for her some time ago and finally taking her first drink. Siiip. Wildfire remains silently in her seat at the bar, leaning against it and watching a conversation between Meian and Thayndor. This seems to be a source of amusement for the wildlander. Thayndor Zahir nods. "That's reasonable," he says. "You want to bring the existing killers to justice; I want to gum up their works so they can't kill again. To do that, perhaps I have to start where you are -- if events elsewhere in the Kingdom are going as poorly as I suspect they are." He splays his fingers, palms still held up. "In a more private setting, I will explain why I think catching peasant killers will not do much to help us prevent another killing. But you are right that it will help to make the case before Imperial law." The Zahir smiles. "Do you still think our rationales are at loggerheads? "Yes, since you seem unable to listen to me," Meian sighs, pursing thin lips and setting down her mug of ale. "I'll be honest. I see no contribution of value you can make to this investigation other than if I get jumped by thugs I can't handle. And I'm not sure the chance of that is worth the difficulty of putting up with your assumptions." Griedan's glowing form appears in the doorway of the tavern, much to the surprise of many patrons who openly gawk at him and the white aura radiating around him, its source his very skin itself and unimpeded by his grey clothing. Flinching as he notes their attention, he lumbers his way up towards the bar. Wildfire looks over at the huge glowy-guy with a quirked eyebrow, but otherwise nothing much about her demeanor changes. "Nothing is worth putting up with your insolence," Thayndor replies, levelly. "We will have to work together, Meian, whether you like it or not. Your opinion of my 'contributions' is, fortunately, not the final one in this matter." He collects his things. "You've made a science out of forgetting your station." The Zahir turns to leave. "And you've got the arrogance of a king but the common sense of a goat in heat," Meian calls after Thayndor cheerily, raising her mug in salute and downing a hearty mouthful. Thayndor Zahir just laughs. "Freelanders!" He says, and disappears. Griedan stops at the sound of Meian and Thayndor arguing back and forth and in the end is left staring open-mouthed at the freelander mage. "Oh bloodeh shades." he murmurs to himself. Wildfire's eyes widen at that, and she raises her mug to hide her face until the Count has left... At which point she starts laughing the nervous cackle of disbelief. "If I might say," she starts carefully, "You... have more balls than most men I've run into... less sense, but more balls." "That was -so worth it-," Meian giggles to herself like a naughty child, swinging her feet where they don't quite touch the ground. "What'll h-he do, hit me? Oh, no, a b-bruise. I'll be p-properly respectful of a-any other nobleman around here in Fastheld. But not T-thayndor Zahir, not u-until he learns true humility." A wince passes through Griedan's form at Wildfire's outwardly spoken course language. He makes no comment on it though as he tries to ignore stares and whispers when approaching Meian. "Pride is a dangerous thin' fer we freelan'ers t' p'sess, Meian." he says in a deep, soft, and scratchy voice. "Oh, come on, he's not that bad," Wildfire protests, "I've known Thayndor for a while now. Bossy sometimes, but he's actually a pretty nice man." "This isn't about my pride, G-Griedan," Meian disagrees with a shake of her dark head. "T-this is about Lord Thayndor c-condemning scores to die b-because of his i-inability to listen to a-anyone else. I don't think he's e-even necessarily entirely wrong, but... he hasn't c-changed. Better I put myself in d-danger to make it obvious to h-him than more people d-die because he's bent on h-his own way. I... don't t-think you know him as well as y-you do, Miss." "'E is o' noble blood. Condemin' others t' death er doin' it themselves. 'S what th' do, Meian, all o' 'em without 'xception, an nothin' what that yeh er ana o' us can d' 'bout it." Griedan tells Meian, but his light brown eyes are turned away, not looking at her. "An' yeh willna get 'im t' lis'en t' yeh b'cause yeh arena 'is peer." "No, I just don't contradict him," Wildfire remarks to Meian, "He's absolutely pleasant when people aren't questioning his authority." She winks, "I don't disagree with you at all, but all you do in fighting with him is waste time and irritate the man. He's /noble/. He'll never know the true meaning of humility, because they get a different definition of it than normal folks." "He is of n-noble blood, but he is n-not noble," Meian says softly yet with absolute certainty. "Being p-pleasant doesn't make him suited f-for command, and he's not. I d-don't care- let him n-not listen to me. I w-won't cooperate with him either." "Meian, yeh should lis'en t' yer friends. Seems t' me what that Lord Za'ir may not b' th' onleh 'un what 'as th' common sense o' a goat in rut." Griedan chides Meian. "The onleh thin' what that an at'tude like that will get yeh is a beatin' an maybeh a few nights in jail. Maybe bein' pleasan' doesna make 'im sui'ed fer comman', but beh law, th' blood in 'is veins does make 'im sui'ed." "Not suited for command?" Wildfire blinks, "He hasn't led me astray yet. Can't speak for others that work for him, mind, but ignoring the pleasantries he seems to be a pretty good boss to me." "You d-didn't hear about Crown's Refuge, I take it," Meian quietly tells Wildfire, before shifting her gaze to Griedan. "No, G-griedan. You know I r-respect nobility. But I can't r-respect him. He's never t-truly taken r-responsibility for his actions and everyone w-who died." "N'bil'teh doesna care 'bout Freelan'ers dyin', Meian. W're tools t' b' used beh them: swords some, wrenches others, but all tools 'ventualleh break. When tha' 'appens, yeh cas' out th' broken tool an get yerself a new 'un." Griedan contradicts Meian. "Unless he had something to do with the Basin incident, I wouldn't know. Didn't spend much time in the Refuge until recently," Wildfire remarks, "And don't tell me. I've got a good thing going with Thayndor, and at this point I'll take blind trust over dropping it." Meian raises disbelieving dark brows at Wildfire, but slowly bows her head. "I'm Meian Firelight, by the way," she introduces herself belatedly. "K-kael Firelight's wife, if you know him. Steward at Night's Edge." A diffident smile, and she glances to Griedan. "What's worse, Griedan, is that he halfway apologizes. I mean it- w-without a sign he's changed, I can't work w-with him." "'S yer perog'tive t' work with 'im 'er not. 'E doesna own yeh." Griedan remarks. Turning back towards Wildfire, he regards the woman for several moments before extending an massive, calloused, glowing hand in her direction. "Isabelle Wildfire. Most call me Wildfire, but you can call me Isa if that's too long," the girl introduces, "Can't say I remember running into any other Firelights, but I could be mistaken." She takes the sunkissed man's hand and gives it a firm shake, "Good to meet you both." "There's a f-few of us," Meian giggles, bowing her head. "It's n-nice to meet you, Wildfire. S-sorry I'm insulting y-your employer, it's j-just... well, as he says. We h-have a history. And aye," she adds firmly Griedan's way, "I'm g-going to use that prerogative." "Griedan Stone'ammer o' Crown's R'fuge." Griedan introdusces himself to Wildfire. "'S an in'eres'in' name what that yeh 'ave. Now, ifn yeh will all excuse me, I'm goin' t'turn in fer th' night. T'was a long ride 'ere an' I'm vereh tired though I dunna sleep s' well beh mehself anamere." "I'm payed to protect his well-being, not his honor," Wildfire remarks, "Insult him as much as you like. But try to remember that he's only human. We all have our flaws, after all." She nods Griedan's way, "I know it sounds a bit silly, but try hugging a pillow. Sleep well." Meian grins with gentle sympathy at Griedan's words, bowing her head. "Aye. S-sleep well, old friend," she echoes with warmth. Glancing back to Wildfire, the mage notes, "I forgive the a-apologetic." "Fair enough," Wildfire allows, nodding and finishing off her water. She half-shrugs, apparently not able to think of anything else worth saying. "S-so, what do you do?" Meian inquires with a tilt of her head. "A-are you a guard for him, or...?" "Pretty much," Wildfire nods, "He's rather effective at defending himself, so I mostly keep him from getting overwhelmed in numbers, where necessary. Run errands from time to time, too." "I-interesting combination," Meian observes with a little laugh, fiddling with her mug of ale. "I'm n-not normally so... d-disrespectful of a-authority. You really don't w-want to hear what he's done?" "Oh, I do," Wildfire remarks, "But I don't want to run the risk of changing my opinion of him to where I won't want this work anymore. I'm finding working for him much better than anything I've had to do before." Meian huhs softly at that, gazing into her mug. "Fair enough," the girl quietly agrees, though she still sounds bewildered. With a quiet sigh, she lifts it to her lips and drinks deeply. "...I should f-find a room, bed down soon..." Nodding, Isa remarks, "I should as well. I'll have to rise early to keep track of him before he wanders off without me. Again." She rolls her eyes, "It's irritating, working for someone who never stays where you left him." Meian giggles, polishing off the last of the ale and rising to her feet with a teasing, "M-maybe you ought to put a l-leash on him, aye?" Chuckling merrily, Wildfire remarks, "Other nobles will flock from all over this Kingdom to beat me if I so much as try... it would be worth it, though..." She grins brightly and rises as well, "Sleep well, and tomorrow we shall plot the leashing!" "Oh d-dear. Now t-that would teach him h-humility," Meian muses to herself with a naughty little laugh, shaking her head and drifting for the stairs. "It was nice to m-meet you. Sleep well!" ---- Return to Season 7 (2008) ''Return to On the Point of Interrogation - Part I Category:Logs